


The Liar That Couldn't Lie

by wonderfulchaos



Category: Servamp (Anime & Manga)
Genre: 500themes, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Little Mermaid AU, M/M, theme - tales of long ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 13:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10361832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderfulchaos/pseuds/wonderfulchaos
Summary: After saving a prince on a stormy night, Sakuya devotes everything to that person’s happiness.





	

The ocean is vast. So vast that sailors spend eons on its waves and still have not reached the ends of it. Within its deepest depths, where the water is colored a brilliant blue, no one has ventured further still. For those fathomless depths rise higher than even the churches of old that reside on the soil. You could pile up those churches, one after another, and still their steeples would not breach the surface.

Beneath that vastness, however, dwells the Palace of the Sea, where live seven siblings in their father’s stead. This is not their story, but the story of a troubled youth who longed to see the shores above. For not every person in the sea is as content as any other; just as not every person upon the land is happy with their lot in life.

Upon the ocean floor, where you might expect sand and bleak darkness, there are cities that light the way. Unlike their counterparts from above, these cities are full of wild plant life, the likes of which you have never seen before. Plants that drift in the current and rustle as if truly alive, reaching out their leaves and stems as if they were hands.

In one such city, where roam the strangest sort of fish, there is a house unlike any other. On the outside, it looks the same as the rest. A muddied roof and scales of brightest neon, with windows that are never closed. Nevertheless, in the garden of this house grow the prettiest pink flowers, raised with such tender loving care by the oldest child that many envy her for it. Even her own parents.

As lovely as the outside, nothing but beauty on the petals of that tree, the inside of that household is something few speak of and even fewer admit to knowing anything about. Not their business, they say, and move along to things that do concern them instead. But to the children that live there, they do not have that choice. They live with the truest monsters of the deep, and that is why the youngest began to long for a life above the tide. Away from the house of two faces.

Surely, he is convinced, there live a much kinder folk there among those that walk on two stubs. He wishes he were older, to see such a sight with his own eyes, but he must wait until his fifteenth birthday. For no one younger than that may crest the waves and be seen by the odd creatures above. Permission must come from the Palace, and for that one must earn it. For they must earn their right to explore worlds not their own.

His sister has been there once and regales him with those tales from time to time. She does not speak of how she earned the right, but her brother is determined to find out. He begins asking questions, wanting to know the answer, and discovers that a sea witch may have been the one that helped her out. Something he doesn’t wish to believe, but by the hardening of her smile when he asks, he can do nothing but accept it as truth. He asks instead what price she had to pay, to bring him stories from lands they could not otherwise reach.

She kisses his brow and tells him not to worry, her hands warm on his cheeks. 

Days later, she passes away. Perhaps that is the answer, perhaps it is not, but she leaves him just like that. With not a sorry or a goodbye, but with a promise that he will no longer be hurt.

Such a lie, he finds, as he nurses a swollen cheek for speaking out of turn. For mentioning the tree whose’s petals have begun to fall, weeping for the loss of their caretaker. He slowly collects the flowers and waits, braiding them into his hair, hair as green as the sea on a stormy night. It’s little comfort, but it reminds him of her. A reminder to keep going when days are too hard to bear and the nights seem endless.

There is one thing that he has discovered he is good at, though. Something he has learned from his sister, and that is lying. He makes up stories for the children to hear, talks circles about beings with no tails, and scares children with idle falsities, insisting they had to be careful lest they get caught in a fishing net. As if a human’s net could ever reach this deep.

These lies eventually draw the curiosity of the Palace and he is brought before the princes. They ask him why he speaks of things he does not know, and he gasps and tells them, “Oh, but I do!” Despite not being of an age that has seen the lands above, he talks of what his sister has told him. Proof enough that there reside truth amidst his lies. The true lie being that he has never seen a human and knows not what they look like, but this is soon fixed as the princes invite him to stay at the Palace.

The garden within is unlike any he has ever seen before. A mixture of colors, for each prince holds a plot of space to call their own. For the youngest, with his crown of gold hair, there are white flowers that open up toward the sun. A sun which glows purple through the blues of the water. Beside the joyful white is an explosion of orange and red, creeping upwards and fighting on. Next to those are green flowers with four petals each. Followed by the flowers that he likes the most, a pink blossom that is nothing like his sister’s. Yet there is the same tenderness to it, and he gazes upon it with a softer look than the others.

Onwards, there is a violet flower with its yellow nectar. Then a two-toned flower of white and red, as if it couldn’t make up its mind what it wanted to be but still stands proud even then. Lastly, off to the side on its lonesome, is a flower that has clustered together in tall blue stalks. Each flower a representation of the one who planted it in some way. He would come to understand that over time.

In the middle of the garden, there is something out of place. A statue of marble stands there, a depiction of a human child with his hands laced behind his back, leaning forward with a beaming smile in place. Sweet and innocent, but washed out and eroded from its time beneath the sea.

He swims to the side of the statue, and then around it, admiring what he has always longed to see. It’s not the real thing, but it is close enough for now. Until he is of an age where he can see an actual human, this is where he could be found. Amongst the splashes of color, and cherishing that which has none.

As time went on, the princes one by one began to reach that age before him. The oldest complains about how loud it was there when he returns. He says the ships up there creak and groan, and the sailors aboard them are worse. His brother after him boasts about helping a school of children splashing out in the water, where they certainly didn’t belong. Later, they find out there was a lot of screeching involved and that children of land could swim if they tried. This brother went ahead and did some extensive research to ensure he wasn’t missing the facts on the matter, a wounded pride to blame.

The next one to rise to the surface is the quiet prince that didn’t really want to go. He hides behind a veil of long black hair and a drape of white flowers that the youngest gives to him, attempting to disappear within their folds rather than have anyone notice him. His words are clipped when he comes back, short and to the point, insisting, “I like it better here.” Something, from the looks of it, spooked him from ever venturing another trip.

Afterwards, when another year has passed, the princess sets off to explore - the only princess of the Palace. But no one is too worried. She has been known to take better care than any of the others, who sometimes seem unaware of their status. On her return, she goes on and on about the farms she saw up there, strange four-legged creatures tilling fields of sand. She explains how the plants that grow from this sand are edible, unlike their own, and that humans apparently eat more than just meat, as first assumed.

Another year, another adventure to recite. This one, the fifth oldest, is the oddest of the lot and prickly to an extent. He admits that he has seen the top-side world before and met the love of his life upon its soil. He doesn’t have a name for her, but he does say that he will marry her, over and over, as dreams are wont to do. No one bursts his dream, for fear that like a bubble it will burst and he will plummet in to a canyon of despair. It is obvious, however, that he spends his time above the waves searching for her. For he is weary and heartbroken when he returns, listless and grumpy when spoken to, and speaking with even odder words than he did before.

Once more, a year passes and another child sets off to the world above them. He comes back with nothing but good things to say, waxing sonnets about the food he encountered along the way. For his older brother’s vocabulary has rubbed off on him, and now they have two of them going on and on with words that make no sense.

Then it is the youngest prince’s turn and he is decorated in lovely pearls from his doting older siblings. A sign of royalty and a sign of care, to ensure a safe journey above the waves. His return heralds the conclusion that, while humans are interesting and beautifully imperfect, it is best to leave them to their own devices. As a consensus, they agree that staying where they belong is much more acceptable. To see their baby brother in tears for a human’s sake, that is where they begin to draw the line.

Persistent to a fault, their guest at the Palace insists, “I want to go up there!” It won’t be too much longer before he can see the world above, they can’t ban him from going; but the looks they turn to him all seem to say, _It’s for your own good._ He’s heard those words before. They don’t warm his heart or put him at ease. On the contrary, it feels like ice water running through his veins.

“Sakuya,” the oldest drawls in that lazy manner of speech that seems to define him, “you don’t need to go up there.”

It’s as if a sinking rock has lodged inside him and keeps falling endlessly from within the pit of his stomach. He has been here for so many years, entertained for so many, even when it felt like he would get nothing in return, and all he has asked for in that time since is this one thing. The one thing they are refusing him. He pleads until they give in and grudgingly allow him his chance to see the lands atop the sea.

On the day of his fifteenth birthday, Sakuya finds the water summery and tranquil in its temperament. It is the time of year that warmth begins to return and things start to change. He takes in the sun, a fiery glow of orange from above the sea, that is setting on the horizon. He observes everything around him. From the slow, gentle roll of the waves to the boat he can see in the distance that glides like a fish. It bobs and lists to the side sometimes, but it floats upright and strangely serene.

Curious, Sakuya approaches the vessel for a closer look. Through the windows of the cabin, as the waves rise higher him every now and again, he can make out the forms of many people. Well-dressed people that go about their business as usual, at ease on their two legs where a tail should have been. He is fascinated as he watches, for he has never seen anything quite like them. Not as they live and breathe, color in their cheeks and lively with their gestures. So unlike the statue he had come to love, but there is one among them that resembles that statue and it sparks his interest even more.

A young man with the same grin, the same happy curve to his eyes as he waves a hand to illustrate a point he’s trying to make to the shorter, purpler man at his side. They appear to be the same age, but the argument esclates into a crescendo of, “You bastard, shut up and take your present!” A gift is shoved into the young man’s arms and he looks embarrassed as he undoes the bow atop it, thanking the other for taking the time to get him something.

It sends a pang through Sakuya’s heart at the sight and he clutches at his chest in askance. For what did it matter if some human gave another human a gift? It is an obvious party that is taking place and he knows that; it should be expected for presents to be there, too. It doesn’t change the fact that he is still hurt, because he wants to be able to give something to that human as well. To some day be of importance to someone that seems kind - and not only that, but someone who is kind, not just seemingly so.

The young man clasps his friend on the shoulder, gives it a shake, and tells him straightforwardly, “I’ll cherish it forever.” His friend goes into a fluster and brushes off the hand like it doesn’t matter. The flaming reds of his face reach up to his ears, despite how he acts. To which Sakuya can understand, because there is something genuine about that person’s words and that must mean the world to that person’s friends.

 _Ah, I want to be your friend, too_ , he thinks, yearning for more as he stares upon the window a moment longer.

The young man leaves the cabin and joins the rest of the crew that have been dancing about the deck, and as he does, a whole group of rockets is launched into the air. The sky, by now a shadow of itself, lit back up with an array of color. A startlngly sight that has Sakuya diving under the water before he can reprimand his own silliness. He breaches the water again, seconds later, to see what looks like the stars falling around him. As if they no longer wish to remain in heaven and instead long as much as he does to touch upon the land and sea.

He’s heard talk of these before, something they call fireworks upon the land, but this is his first time seeing it like everything else. Tiny suns that he can reach out and touch. They burn his hand when they meet his skin, a fleeting pain that he can barely feel; but the dots of red that pepper his skin are a testament to the reality of it. A reality he couldn’t believe as truth until that moment.

When he looks back up, he can make out the ship in its entirety. From the tallest person to the lonesome bit of rope discarded in a corner. And the young man that bewitches, unlike any other, is more handsome for the way he shakes every hand and thanks every person, his voice clear and distinct over the music that still resounds over the deck.

It grows late with every minute longer he stays; yet Sakuya cannot bring his eyes to leave the sight of the party that continues on. The lanterns aboard the ship have been extinguished, no more rockets rise into the air, and the cannon has ceased its firing; but the winds began to stir and the sea becomes a restless omen of things to come, grumbling and moaning as the waves stretch and crash down.

The sails have a breath of air fill them out and the ship moves onward, moving away from him as the waves rise higher still. The ship dips between them, noble as a swan, and comes back out the other side unharmed. The clouds overhead darken in promise and water from the sky falls over and over again, while lightning flashes across the darkness.

To Sakuya, something fun is going on. Not so for those aboard the ship who yell and shout profanities, encouraging one another in their pursuit to batten down the hatches. The ship beneath them shakes and groans, the planks giving way under the pressure of the sea, stripped away from their sides before they can be stopped. The mainmast snaps in two and plunges into the water, torn asunder like the rest of their damaged ship. Back and forth they weave until finally the ship lists too much to the right and on its side it must lay, becoming one with the sea.

Now that he understands the danger this poses, remembering that not all humans can swim, he hurries to the side of the ship. A flash in the sky pierces through the black night and he takes in the pale faces of most of the sailors. Most, because a notable one is missing. The beautiful youth with the blinding smile, no where to be seen within the raging waters or clinging to debris for dear life.

The planks part in the drifting waves and he sees him then, sinking further and further down, one of his hands outstretched upwards in a silent plea. At first, Sakuya admits to being a little happy about this outcome. For the further this person sinks, the closer they will be to one another; but he belatedly realizes that by the time the young man reaches the Palace of the Sea, he will be nothing but a corpse. This person, more than anyone else, must not die.

He swims between the beams and planks, pushing aside rubbish as he hastens to the young man’s side. He is heedless of the danger to his arms and exposed chest, not caring about the nicks and scratches that accumulated the further he goes. Once he reaches where he saw the youth disappear, he dives deeply into the pitch black water. The rage of the sea works against him, battling him as he extends out his arm and finally, at last, clasps the young man’s hand in his own and pulls. He wraps his arms around him when the current buoys him up to his side, brown hair fluttering ethereal around a scrunched up face, eyes tightly shut to block out the stinging salt of the sea.

They rise to the surface together, the youth weak from fighting alone for so long. For surely he would have died had not Sakuya come to his aid. He holds his head above the water, keeping them both aloft as the storm plays out around them. The waves drift them where they will, and in the morning, the storm has ceased. Of the ship, however, not a single fragment can be seen.

The sun shines bright and bathes the sea in cozy shades of pink and red, lulling the youth he holds in his arms back to a more welcoming color of health. For the paleness struck a cord in him, an imprint of a statue frozen and weathered and never to breathe beneath the sea. He kisses the forehead of the young man, his fingers sweeping back the damp hair, and wishes for this person to live as he kisses the salt out of his eyes.

Soon, before he knows it, the sight of land is blessing them with a shoreline to rest upon. Mountains of cloudy blue are far from where they lay, but they can still be seen if he looks hard enough, if he drags his gaze from the human for a moment to see them. Not too far away are the blooms of a familiar tree, the scent alone what makes him look up with a gasp, small pink petals fluttering in the wind. Nearby the grove of trees is a tall building, painted windows accented by the glow of the sun. It looks like a cathedral, the likes of which he has seen underwater before as well. It gives him hope that someone there can help tend to the human he wants to live more than any other.

Beside this human, his human, he rests for a moment more, soaking up the warmth of the sand and the water that lopes at his tail. He wants to stay here, but he knows that cannot become his reality, his truth, and he takes to the sea where he belongs. Instead, he hides behind a rock and ensures that someone will help where he cannot.

It does not take long for that someone to arrive, a young man in tidy black robes that match his hair the shade of a raven’s wings. The shockingly white strand of it even matches the collar that he tugs up against the wind that has been stirring the trees. A man of faith, from his clothes to the angel wing pendant over his left breast.

The man spots the human that Sakuya is forced to leave upon the sand, but he does not express anything on his face aside from mild disdain as he bends down on one knee to check the pulse of the other human. Something soft enters the man’s eyes as he encourages the other man to sit up, saying something that Sakuya does not hear from this far away. Words that rouse the young man back to life. His eyes read puzzlement for many things, but he looks up at the person in front of him with such relief that is painful to watch and not say anything at all.

Regretfully, he dives back into the water and returns to the Palace where the siblings that live there await his stories. He does not forget his time above, but he also sees what the others meant when they said they preferred it down here. Beneath the sea, there is little to worry about and little to bring harm to their hearts. Still, he knows this is not the truth and he longs even more for the world above him. Now more than ever, because he was able to touch a single life in a single day and that meant everything to him.

At length, he could bear it no longer and spun a tale that wasn’t quite a lie and wasn’t quite the truth either. The Palace siblings listen as they often do, but it is just the one that helps, the youngest, his compassion showing through as he asks after anyone that might know where to find the human he left behind. For he has revisited, many times, the place where he laid the human to rest in the sun, and each time he comes back empty-handed and hopes crushed. Not unlike a certain prince that had made the mistake of falling in love with a human.

In a surprising turn of events, this human is a well-known one amidst the sea and many have seen and heard of his exploits. A young prince, they say, that sails days at a time to spread peace for his kingdom with talks of good faith. The important part is that he now has a place to find the human, and a name to accompany that human in his mind: Mahiru.

He wastes no time and heads to the spot where the prince’s castle is said to overlook the waters below. It’s walls are made of golden bricks that sparkle in the sunlight, with marble steps that build up the long flights of stairs, one stairwell even leading all the way to the sea. The roof, as splendid as the walls, glitters in its accumulated glory; and the yard, too, is decorated in more statutes than Sakuya can count from where he swims.

Through the crystal clear windows of the land dwellers, he can see the rooms meant for guests, done by in fine silk curtains and tapestries that spoke of ages long ago; while the walls dress in paintings that are just as breathtaking as everything else. 

In the most open, spacious room there is a fountain that bubbles and rustles, jetting its water up toward the glass ceiling before it cascades down like a waterfall. And around the base of the fountain grow such pretty plants that Sakuya wishes he knew their names, thriving as they were in the presence of both water and sunlight.

Now that he knows where to find his missing human, he spends many days and night simply watching from afar. Slowly, he would work up the courage to swim closer and closer with each visit. There arrives such a day that he swims to the narrow channel under the balcony of the prince’s room; and there he would sit for hours and gaze upon the prince who thinks he is alone at the time. He watches in delight how the moonlight bathes him in an otherworldly glow, both an unreachable figure and something temptingly close.

Many evening in-between he spends trailing behind him as Mahiru rows out in a little boat upon a calm sea, pleasant music drifting over the sound of the oars striking the water. He peeps from among the green rushes, wary of being caught, but there is only one time that the prince even looks his way, confusion painted on his face, and that is when Sakuya sighs and lies aloud. The prince shrugs it off quickly, mistaking it for frogs making a racket from where they are hidden in rushes, and that is that. But he almost wishes the prince had heard his lie of, “There is nothing that could stop me from being by your side.”

As time goes on, he grows more and more fond of humans and the good that they can accomplish. For every bad, there is an even greater good. He becomes more and more convinced that his place was among them and that he should be one of those that walk with two legs. His want to be like them consumes his thoughts and drives him to seek a way to do so.

With questions upon questions in mind, he goes to the oldest prince of the sea for answers, wondering, “If a human is not drowned, can they live forever? Do they not die upon their land, as we do not upon the sea?”

The prince raises his head from where it rests upon a tower of pillows, dimissing, “Yes, they do die. Just as we must. Their life is even shorter than our own. We can live for nearly three hundreed years, while they can last no more than 100, if that. When we cease to exist, do you know what we become?”

Shaking his head, Sakuya leans forward to hear more of this matter that he was never taught, insisting, “Do we not become reborn as something else?”

“No,” letting his head fall back into his pillows, the prince explains, “we become nothing more than sea foam and drift on the waves. Unlike humans, we do not have graves. We have no markers to mourn or a place for our grief. For we cannot cry. You see, we do not have immortal souls. We will never live again." 

Without warning, the prince reaches out and toys with the green hair that Sakuya has always loved, always preening over  it with the utmost care. For his sister had loved his hair. Continuing on, the prince compares, "To be cut and forsaken, struck down in death, our souls will not come back. Not like hair, but more as a plant that has been snipped at its roots.

"Humans, though, they’re something else.” Wistfully, he adds on, “They have souls that live forever. A soul that lives even outside of the body. For when they turn to ash, their souls ascend; and as we rise from the water to see what the world above ours is like, so do they go in search of the realm that exists above their own.”

“Why do we not possess such an immortal soul?” asks Sakuya. “Why are we different? I would gladly,” he tells him with a hitch to his voice, “give up all the years I have left to spend a single day as human. To know the joys of reaching for the stars above like them!”

“To think like that,” the prince mutters, “I can’t deal with you. You’d be much happier here. Forget about those humans and live out your years of peace here.”

Scoffing, Sakuya bemoans, “So that’s it then? I shall die and become nothing but foam in the sea. Like everyone else, no difference, nothing. The same as those who I refuse to call parents? I will not, I cannot! Tell me, isn’t there a way to gain an immortal soul?”

Rolling his eyes to the ceiling and heaving a put-upon sigh, the sea prince tells him, “No, not unless a human were to love you more than they love themselves. Someone who would love you more than their own mother and father. All their thoughts, all their love, it must be directed toward you and no one else. To find someone so self-sacrificing in their love, do you really believe there is a human that could do that?”

There is one, he thinks, that could do that. Someone he is willing to believe could be his everything, and with time, he might be lucky enough for those feelings to be reciprocated.

Not done yet, the prince assures him, “If you were to find someone that could love you that completely, then half their soul would then be yours. But what hope do you have of that? Have you forgotten the tail that follows you?”

It is impossible to forget such a thing, but Sakuya smiles and tells him, “Maybe I did, or maybe I did not. What matters is that I now have my answer.”

“You’re a pain,” concludes the prince, “let us have a ball instead. Maybe that will take your mind of these weird things you think.”

Court held at the Palace is something that Sakuya has grown tired of throughout the years, but he accepts as to be expected of him. He is their jester, after all, and his lies are the most cherished thing about him. He uses a facade of smiles to enthrall his audience and entice them to join in the merriment of the stories he exaggerates for their ears. He speaks of things he does not know, of things he does, and of things he wants to know with every piece of his existence.

Fish dart about the place, twisting and twining through his hair and around him like belts and loops of jewelry, making him and others laugh. It’s all for show, all of it, but he laughs with a hint of actual truth behind it because he has found a solution that no one else has to know about. A solution his sister, really, had provided him all along.

He goes to see the sea witch when court has been dismissed. The one who has been kicked out of the Palace. Someone who will have the real answers, the only answers he’ll accept. The place he is headed is not without its difficulties, though. For it is a place of whirlpools and entangling plants that reach out like claws that are itching to sink into the closest thing that wriggles; plants which find themselves painted red over and over, soaking it in until it stains them permanently.

When he reaches the gates of the witch’s hut after a careful bout of swimming, he takes a nervous gulp and taps lightly at the entrance, which sets off a bubbly stream of laughter that dwindles into a sigh as the person tells him, “Come in.”

The hut resembles much of the outside graveyard. Parts of shipwrecks litter the place, bones of sailors are propped up like decorative accessories for the room, and there is a smoking cauldron in the middle of it all. The eye of this disastrous whirlpool, where floats a man with black glasses to cover up what would be seen behind them. And around the witch swim eels of varying colors, some looping about his arms and chest, caressingly happy with their master as he cooes at them.

The witch speaks in a deprecating monotone when he does finally speak, “I know what it is you want.” Laughing for a moment, he has to take a deep breathe before he persists, “It is very stupid of you. I suppose siblings are so similar, are they not?”

Sakuya reigns in a snarl, because he does not want to ruin the chances of his wish becoming a truth, not when he is so close to it. “Get on with it,” he says instead, tone frosty and a little bit challenging.

“Oh dear,” sing-songs the witch. “Is that any way to ask for something you want?” Tossing his hands out and shooing the eels aside, the witch goes on with, “But you shall have your way, child, and you will work hard for your prince. Of course, it will bring you sorrow. For you wish to be rid of your fish tail, is that right?” At Sakuya’s hesitant nod, the witch grins and moves to begin collecting things from the cabinets and from about the room, tossing them into the cauldron. “You wish to have two stubs, like those humans you so admire. You want for your love to be returned, just as you want for an immortal soul. How very greedy!”

And then the witch laughs, in the most obnoxious way that even the eels hide from the disturbance, only peeking out when it trails off into an inevitable sigh. “What a pity, what a pity. The draughts I make come at a great cost. I will prepare one for you, but you must reach land by sunrise tomorrow. That is not all, I am afraid. For you see, when your tail recedes, you will be in agony for life. It will be as if a great sword as struck your tail in two and that will not go away, no matter how much you wish it so. But do not fear, for those that see you will become enchanted by you. Your graceful steps will seem to them as if you have descended from the clouds, even as your feet bleed for every footprint you must leave behind.”

With a malicious smile, the witch asks him, “If you will bear all of this, I will gladly help you.”

“Yes, I will,” Sakuya is not swayed in what he wants, for he has already known his fair share of pain. It is a pittance when he thinks of what he will gain: the love of someone otherwise out of his reach and the promise of an immortal soul.

“But consider,” the witch says, a flippant sarcasm about him, “once you are human, you can no longer be what you are - is that truly what you desire?” He doesn’t wait for Sakuya’s answer, babbling on with, “Oh me, oh my, you’ll never see my traitorous siblings again! Never again will you show your face upon these depths. And let me remind you, the day your prince gives his heart to another, that is also the day your heart will break in two. If that were to happen, what do you think becomes of you?”

Turning his head to the side, Sakuya whispers a pointed, “It won’t happen.”

“Why, you become foam on the waves, just like those people you hate so such!”

It takes all his patience not to throw the nearest object at the witch. “I will do it,” repeats Sakuya. “Let’s get to it already.”

“Ah, but I must also be paid,” muses the witch, “I did mention that, did I not? It is not a trifle that I ask for either, it must be something you dearly could not live without. I ask you, what does a liar value most? Do you know, child? For you, who seeks to beguile and charm your prince with words riddled with them, I will be taking that as payment. My own blood must be given for this to work, to be as sharp as a two-edged sword. That does not come cheap.”

“But if you take that from me,” Sakuya’s voice finally trembles, “what is left of me?”

“That’s for you to figure out,” teases the witch, reaching for a dagger. “Now say 'ahhhh.’ Unless you have lost your courage perhaps?”

Dutifully, Sakuya opens his mouth and gives the price that is asked him. With a liar’s tongue and a drop of black blood from the sea witch, the draught is near done, boiling into a clear white as the fire crackling beneath scolds it into behaving. The weeping sounds that permeate the air cease and the witch takes the caludron off the fire, bottling up what remains within it. “There you have it,” says the witch, “best be off. You only have until sunrise, after all, or the potion becomes lame.”

Without returning to say goodbye to anyone else, he rises straight to the surface where the moon glitters overhead, full and bright to guide the way. He swims to the marble steps of the castle that his prince lives in and sits upon them as he drinks the draught he has been given. It is the most excruciating thing, to have one’s whole existence cleaved in two, and he collapses from the shock of it rather than being unprepared.

When rises the sun and it touches his skin, he awakens and opens his eyes, becoming aware of the dull pain that lingers in his tail struck in two. This pain is eased as he stares upwards and right into the eyes of a baffled prince he has been longing to meet for months. He parts his lips, preparing an introduction that would make anyone swoon, but no sound leaves him and he belatedly remembers what he gave up, his hand going to his throat in despair.

“Excuse me, are you all right?” The prince crouches beside him, offering up a blanket he brought with him, admitting, “I saw you from my balcony. You must be cold. Do you not have clothes?”

He colors at the realization that without his tail he feels quite naked. Still, it is wrong of him not to answer, so he shakes his head, looking up pleading at the prince for some assistance. To which he earns a laugh and a pat on the head, the prince helping him stand and bringing him into the castle’s walls with little else asked. Each step to get there, though, is bloody. It is as if he is truly walking over a pit of knives; but the contact of the prince’s hands on him and the thrill of it being there at all is a soothing balm that washes away what he otherwise finds unbearable.

Before he knows it, he is adorned in silks of white and pink. Smooth and familiar, like a tail that is now long gone. And there are servants arranging a crown of flowers upon his head where before he had no need of them if they were not his sister’s. He lets them, for his prince is smiling so much at the sight that he can’t take that slight happiness, no matter how insignificant, from him.

The servants also provide food, where he sits and dines with the prince in such a way that he has only ever entertained in his wildest daydreams. This is when the curious prince renews his questions, though, asking where he came from, if he’s really all right, and if he can speak. It’s too much, too fast, and Sakuya stays silent because he has no other choice. _Ah_ , he thinks restlessly, _if only he could know what I have given up for him._

“No matter,” Mahiru assures him, “please take this time to rest and stay as long as you need. This places is larger and more lonely than you can imagine.”

Given a room close by, he is never far from the prince. Even a page’s outfit is made for him, so that they may ride out on horses together. Time passes them, bit by bit, as they grow to know and care for each other. Because despite the voice that would not leave him, Mahiru’s patience and dedication to being his friend persists; and Sakuya holds onto the hope that his love may one day be returned.

Their travels together become something of envy for the other servants, the ones that did not approve of them. _A noble and a peasant_ , they would sneer, _what a dastardly sight_. It is a good thing that Mahiru is a kind person or those people would have been in for a nasty surprise. It is Mahiru, after all, that holds him back when he wishes for nothing more than to lash out and hurt others the way he continues to hurt.

Some nights, when he is unable to sleep from the pain, he sits at the bottom of the marble steps that lead to the sea and imagines he can see the Palace from there. He pretends that he is missed, and that if he looks hard enough he will see the siblings rise from the water, because they are worried and have come to check up on him. He doesn’t see them, though, not really. It is strange that he can’t even lie in his own thoughts these days.

As the months begin to pass, Sakuya finds he has fallen harder than before for the prince he saved that day. It is with a certain fondness that he follows his prince and helps him whenever needed. However, the way he is cared for in return reminds him too much of how one treats a child and he is at a lost for how to correct this mistaken impression that he needs to be coddled. A partner is what he wants to be, someone Mahiru can depend on always.

 _Do you not love me as I love you?_ is what he begs with his eyes, regardless of the futility of it.

“You are dear to me,” says the prince, “for your heart is good and you are the most devoted to me and these lands. You remind me of someone I met a long time ago now, a man who saved my life. My ship was sinking and yet I somehow managed to wash up ashore. Alive. There was a church nearby and one of the newest clerics saw me on the bank and rushed to save my life. I saw him but a few times during my stay, and he is perhaps the only one in this world I could love. But,” and here Sakuya grows more disheartened, because what more could there be to make his pain worse, “but you are like him, and you have almost driven him from my mind. He has his place, his heart taken by his faith, and yet good fortune has allowed us to meet. May we never part, may we always be together.”

It is better than nothing at all and Sakuya reaches for his prince’s hand that is willingly given, squeezing it tight in his hold. Mahiru doesn’t know, he is reminded, that it was him that saved his life that night. That can be put aside, regardless, for he has his prince and there is no one who will take him from him.

Before long, the prince’s uncle decrees that his nephew must marry. A neighboring kingdom that has been at odds with them for years says they are willing to cease the fight, but a marriage must take pace. The usual power struggles coming into play, and it makes Sakuya’s blood boil in anger. To dare to use Mahiru in that way is enough to set him out on a warpath, but again it is Mahiru that takes him aside and assures him that everything is going to be all right. He is only to meet the person he is to marry, first and foremost, and the voyage will part them for nothing but a short while.

This is something that Sakuya will not allow to go unchecked and refuses to let Mahiru go alone. In thankfulness for that devotion, Mahiru presses their foreheads together and tells him, “If I had to choose between this stranger and you, I would always and forever choose you. You, who have stood at my side. You, who cherish me more than I can imagine. You would come with me? You are not afraid of the sea?”

He would have laughed if he could, but Sakuya shakes his head instead and beams the most brilliant grin he can. He has no more fear of the sea than he is that he will lose Mahiru. Not after those words.

The journey to the other kingdom takes days, and he basks in the sunlight that he shares alongside Mahiru aboard the swaying ship. The feel of the waves beneath him once more a tiny whisper of _welcome home_. It has been too long since he has been out to sea this far, a blessing that he can finally share with Mahiru.

The morning of their arrival is met with trumpets and fanfare, a beautiful town urging them to take in all that they have to offer. Church bells ring in the distance. And along the high wall of the castle, there stand soldiers in full salute. Flags and bayonets of every color on display, it is as if they had stepped off the ship and into a carnival; everything a festival and people encouraging them to have fun.

Yet the person that is to wed Mahiru, there is no sight of them. The townspeople say that their royalty are a devout, loving couple, but the king also has the tendency to rule with a iron fist. Including, apparently, sending his eldest off to work at an early age. “Best get experience early, he says to the boy,” one merchant tells them with a laugh. “That boy of his is a riot. Your prince will enjoy his company, if nothing else!”

It is with cold dread that he watches the events unfold. The man that would marry his prince is a very immaculate person. Not a scuff mark or any speck of dirt on his attire of royal blues and purples. A glistening silver upon his head that compliments the streak of white in his hair and highlights the darkness of the rest. It is like watching the moon step up to meet the sun as he takes Mahiru’s hand in his and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

With a slowly breaking heart, he comes to realize that the next words from Mahiru will be nothing short of: “It’s you! The one who saved my life! I have known no happiness greater than this. A chance to finally thank you in person.”

Later, to Sakuya, he goes on to insist, “This is wonderful! Are you not happy for me, to know that I shall be wed to the one person I have loved more than any other? Your devotion is great and sincere, surely you must rejoice for the happiness I have found.”

Kissing Mahiru upon the cheek, he smiles and nods his head. And if he could have cried there would have been rivers running down his face to match the one dividing his heart. After that wedding, on the morning after, he is faced with the fact that he will die. Another piece of foam to add to the rest out on the ocean waves, a piece that no one will ever remember.

He hear not the festive music that continues to play, or the ringing of the church bells that grows steadily louder with every step they take to the altar. He does not smell the burning of the oils or the fragrance of flowers as they fill the room. Even the words that the priest speaks to bind the two together fall on deaf ears, as hollow and empty as Sakuya feels.

The reception takes place on a ship, as close to the sea as Mahiru can get as he shows off his new love for all to see. Congratulations are passed around like hand shakes and it is like watching something come full circle as he envisions the end. As this is the last night, though, he puts on a show that will entertain Mahiru more than anyone else’s. The last night he will breathe the same air as him, the last time he will see that face light up with delight at something he has done, the last time he will ever get to look into Mahiru’s eyes and plead for him to understand what he wants to convey: _I love you_.

Eventually the newlyweds retire to their cabin, arm in arm, playing with each other’s hair and talking lowly for only the other to hear. In turn, Sakuya takes a seat atop the side of the ship and gazes out at the sea that had always been his home. He is surprised to see familiar gazes looking back, a sorrowful collection of seven that have all cut their hair for a reason that eludes him. A reason that soon makes sense as the oldest among them says, “We struck a deal with the witch, for you.” And he holds out a dagger, for which he instructs, “Pierce the prince’s heart with this and you can return. Live out your three hundred years where you belong.”

With the dagger in his hands, he approaches the cabin’s door and it gives way with a twist of the knob. The two inside lay under the sheets, Mahiru with his head against the bare breast of his love, with his own chest exposed to the air. He draws back the blade and then slowly lowers it back to his side, letting it slip through his fingers as he realizes he cannot take the life of the person he cares most about. Instead, he bends down and presses a kiss to Mahiru’s forehead in imitation of how they met, tucking stray strands of hair behind his ear as he mouths, “I wish I never had to leave you,” with a voice that will never be heard.

He returns to the edge of the ship and dives in, becoming foam amongst sea where he will drift forevermore beneath the sunlight that has already risen.


End file.
